Robert Frost, It net nommen paad

 
It net nommen paad

Yn giel bosk wieken twa paden útien.
Ik koe, ûndielber, net beide del.
Om’t my dat spiet, bleau ik lang stean,
Liet oer paad ien myn each fier gean
Oant wêr’t it weiwaard yn it strewel;

Naam doe paad twa, sa moai hast ek,
Faaks dat it sels geskikter wie,
Want gerzich wie ’t en slyt wie ’t brek;
Hoewol’t wat lânskaam beide krekt
Sawat gelyk fersliten hie.

It giel dat dy moarns oer beide lei
Wie net fertrape ta swarte drek.
Ach, ’k liet paad ien foar in oare dei!
Mar wist, no giet it fan wei op wei,
Dit spoar fiert my grif nea tebek.

En ienris, earne, yn koart bestek,
Is dit wat ik fersuchtsje sil:
Twa paden wieken útien, en ik –
Ik naam it paad it minst yn trek,
En dat brocht in wrâld mei fan ferskil.

 

The Road not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

 

Ut Mountain Interval, 1916. YouTube: Santaï, ‘The Road Not Taken’, 2016.

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